


half light

by nervedamaged



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types, Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu
Genre: Accident, Alternate Universe, Classical Music, Deaf, F/F, Hollstein - Freeform, Loss of Parent(s), Musical Hallucinations, Musical Instruments, Storm - Freeform, Tragedy, Violinist AU, Violinist!Laura, deafness, loss of hearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervedamaged/pseuds/nervedamaged
Summary: Laura is a young aspiring classical violinist with dreams of a big future. Following Laura's musical career dream is all her family have ever known and so upon receiving her acceptance to the prestigeous Royal Academy of Music in London, Laura and her parents unsettle their roots in Canada for the big move to England. Unfortunate tragic events break her whole world apart when there are freak weather conditions crossing the Atlantic and Laura loses more than just her parents. With no one left in her whole world and left with a traumatising disability can Laura learn to see the music that she can no longer hear?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllMyTomorrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllMyTomorrows/gifts).



> For Charlie (AllMyTomorrows). For always backing me up in all my fic ideas, for believing in me and letting me be me, which is the greatest gift of all <3
> 
> This is my first Carmilla fic and to say I'm pretty nervous would be a bit of an understatment. Please bear with me, because when I have an idea in my head I really run with it and this particular idea has been bugging me for a while now, hence why I can't keep it in any longer.
> 
> I'd like to point out that I don't play the violin, so all that I have is what I will read to make this as believable as possible. 
> 
> I am a classical music lover, a lot of my artwork and writing is completed to classical works, strings are by far what move the most. I am one of those people who cries happy tears whenever I listen to classical music. I am also, apparently, one of the few people who has musical hallucinations. Often, not always, that moment when I first wake and I'm half way between sleep and awake I will hear the most beautiful orchestral pieces even though nothing is ever playing. When I try to concentrate on the music it stops just as soon as it has started. Despite it apparently having something to do with mental brain function (not much is actually known about it) and tinitus in later life I welcome it, even if it does mean I'm a bit strange! 
> 
> I will be adding tags as I go along with the chapters because I don't want to give the game away before I've begun. I also can't promise to update this regularly, but do promise to finish it, so bear with me. I have a demanding job IRL.
> 
> Thank you, V x

_half light_

 

_P R O L O G U E_

 

There are days when I wake, when I breathe in the morning air, crisp and clean, in the inbetween, that moment between sleep and wakefulness when if I listen closely I can hear them downstairs, when their laughter fills the air and the smell of bacon wafts up the stairwell to grace my nostrils encapsulating a heady delicious flavour.

 

There are times when in the inbetween I hear the most powerful symphonies, the most beautiful of sounds with the most raging of colourful light that when I try to listen real close, are gone in an instant, that are only really there on the cusp of my conscious. I hear everything and see even more, the summers are the best when there’s no urgency to wake, when I can lie, eyes closed, drifting between the two, floating in the music that harmonises even my subtle movements in the sheets, for as long as I wish.

 

Some days I can hear their voices as clear as if they were lying right next to me, as if they lay either side of me and whispered so close to my ears only I knew what the other was saying. When the climax of the bow pulling taught against the strings of my violin vibrates deep and longing in my chest and I’m breathing the music I play, breathing, sleeping, dreaming, living music in all its orchestral glory.

 

When the building of notes makes my heart swell and I long to see them captured in the moment, when he pulls her closer into his embrace and dances round the soft light of the living room, giant smile stretching at his cheeks in my direction they pass in a slow motion dance, staring lovingly at her when they’re close to the mantlepiece and when he spins her away from him, she’s caught in an achingly slow twirl and he catches her like it was nothing, holding her, loving her.

 

Loving me.

 

Wanting only the best for me, wishing on the most magnificent luck, holding the longest of breaths, encouraging, supporting, living vicariously through the strings and the bow. Holding my hand, breathing with me, inspiring me, strengthening my resolve when not everything goes according to plan. Restoring my faith in my talents. Helping me to my feet when I fall… and fall again. Watching in awe as I live and breathe the music that flows out of my every pore, seeping into the curved wood at my fingertips, breathing life into my disheartened soul. Believing in me.

 

Loving me.

 

The quiet creak of the wooden seat beneath his legs, the soft scuff of his fingers as they graced the ivory keys, a small puff of air that he exhaled, the rise and fall of his chest, the clunk of the pedals beneath his feet, the silence before the stark sound of key c being hit, a small pause, light in the moment, the note ringing out in the darkness bar one pinprick of light that coursed over silky russet coloured wood, brushing it’s curves, sifting through fingertips, alighting the fine strings that pulled taught at the scroll, dust caught in the hairs of my bow dancing in the light, floating, breathing with me as I draw the bow across the strings and I’m on fire. I breathe it, see it, dream it, touch it and I’m aflame in the midst of the symphony.

 

I am flying.

 

Colour and light leaks out of the f holes in my mind and I’m surrounded by passion, by love and glorious glorious indigos, violets and reds. Oranges swirl and blues join them in a promenade high above my head, pirouetting yellow pigments saturated in notes, I feel and am at one with freedom, there is nothing but me and the music. Nothing but the beautiful foray of intense cascading light dancing from the strings of my Stradivarius.

 

But.

 

There are days when I wake, and all I hear is

 

Deafening.

 

Silence.


	2. this is enough now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loss means different things to different people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note; Laura's flashback's are always in the first person.
> 
> I already have an ending in mind for this ficlet; I can't tell you how many chapters it will be or how long it will take to complete it, but it will be a ride in itself, I can promise, however, that you won't be bored.
> 
> Nearly a month ago (28th January to be precise) I was involved in a car accident, with relatively minor physical injuries I was very lucky to walk away despite hitting a tree and my car being a write off, unfortunately it doesn't seem that I was totally unscathed and find that I appear to have a few mental injuries that are taking their time to disappear; this last month has been so incredibly tough. I have had a lot of ups and too many downs to count, I've called on the Creampuff and Earper community more times than I would like to admit but they haven't let me down and instead have made me feel so incredibly loved. I have a lot to work through which will take time and sometimes it's hard for people to understand that, so I'm going to shrink back into my old coping mechanisms; art & writing. I hope that it will be enough to keep me putting one foot in front of the other.
> 
> It was pure coincidence that I just so happened to be listening to the song, that I want to use for the ending of this story, in my car at the time of the crash and I just cannot listen to it anymore without having flashbacks to what happened, which in itself is soul destroying because it was singlehandly one of THE most beautiful songs I have ever heard. To top it all off I'd just found out that day that the band was touring the UK in the summer and ironically booked tickets to go and see them play. So I'm going to try and work through this because in the end it will be worth it, it will just take a little while to get there, so please bear with me. 
> 
> Thank you.

“It’s here, it’s here, it’s HERE, IT’S HERE!”

 

She’s jolted awake this time; a piece of bright white paper being thrust into her face and her mom’s voice jarring her from any hint of sleep she had left. She doesn’t know if she’s more or less excited than her mother who’s fluttering hands are pulling her into an upright position by her pyjama sleeves before pressing the already opened envelope directly into her palms, her wide eyed expression and grin that reaches across her face is everything that a child could want from a parent, it’s all that Laura ever has known, a world where her little family unit of three lived vicariously through her musical talent and in this instance literally waited with baited breath for her to take the letter, open it and reveal what they’d been waiting all summer to hear.

 

Laura can’t help but think that her parents don't know the meaning of subtle and should have held the pristine letter up to light to see what it said rather than pretend they didn’t know how it could have possibly ‘opened by itself’. She can see the edges of the envelope have half been scoured with a letter opener and half ripped by overzealous fingernails. Her mom’s inches from breathing down her neck, she can feel the excitement rippling through her before hazarding a glance up to her dad, his torso holding up the door frame as he nodded enthusiastically at her with a ‘ready when you are pumpkin’ unspoken between them. Laura swallowed audibly, a slight lump forming in the back of her throat as her fingers eased the letter from the envelope and propped it open on her lap. 

 

> “Dear Miss Hollis,
> 
>  
> 
> I am delighted to inform you that the Committee on Admissions has admitted you to the Class of 2016 under our undergraduate program.”

 

Laura’s fingers skimmed over the words like they were embossed in the paper and she could feel them to understand faster than her brain was taking to compute it. Her mom made a high pitched squeal just at the same time as Laura’s exclamation of “oh my god” made it passed her shocked posture, it was followed very swiftly by another “oh my god” her eyes immediately glanced up to her dad who’s exclamation of joy was by giving her two giant thumbs up, before he pressed forwards and pulled her and her mom into a fast and furious hug; “Congratulations pumpkin” his deep voice vibrated in her ear that was pressed tight into his chest, “your mom and I are so proud of you kiddo” there was shaking and a bit of sobbing from her left as her mom let go of her emotions and her dad let go of her to pull his wife into a hug leaving a bewildered Laura to take in more of the words written on the gradually tear smudged page,

 

> “Please accept my personal congratulations for your outstanding achievements.
> 
>  
> 
> “Yours sincerely,
> 
> Mae Margaret Bunsenn,
> 
> Bursar, Royal Academy of Music”

 

“Mom, dad, Thank you, I-” she addressed them both as if she was announcing a revelation; her lip quivered, the words sticking to the roof of her mouth, her emotions not allowing them any further without a little sob of her own, “I- I couldn’t have done this without you, thank you” her tears brimmed over this time and fell wetting the letter and smudging some of the words printed. “Oh sweetheart, you did this all on your own” her mom’s fingers had stopped clutching onto the fabric of her pyjama sleeve and were now wiping away her tears from their slow but steady trickle down her cheeks before she cupped her face and smiled, eyes smiling too, sheer admiration for her daughter creased every wrinkle on her forehead that she tried to cover up with concealer but that Laura secretly liked because it made her mom more human with her laughter lines. “You only needed us to lift you up when you were growing” Laura rolled her eyes and groaned; “Mommmm…” her mother’s left hand swiftly clamped over her daughters mouth stifling any more moans, “Laura Eileen Hollis! Let me finish” she scolded “you only needed us to lift you up when you were growing up to be the amazingly beautiful and talented woman that you are today, now that you’re tall enough you can reach those shelves on your own, you don’t need us anymore darling,” she removed her hand and cupped Laura’s face again, tears glossing over her brilliant blue eyes as her lip quivered and Laura’s own resolve was threatened, she hated seeing her mom cry. “I’m so, so very proud of you Laura” it was Laura’s turn to clutch onto her mother’s shirt and pull her tight against her own chest, “I’ll always need you, no matter how old I am” suddenly aware of the heady floral smell of her mother’s perfume, her dad’s aftershave and something else she couldn’t place.

 

Breaking away from her mother’s embrace, Laura leaned out of her bed to retrieve the letter that fell from her grasp shortly after her mom’s hand had stopped short her grievances at yet another sappy story about her ‘journey’ as a musician. Laura had no extended family, their little unit was just the three of them, her mom, her dad and her; a perfect family as her parents would have her believe even though she knew her mom had been pregnant with twins, and her twin, a boy, had died in utero, her parents didn’t know she knew - she’d found out by accident; seen the death certificate and a couple of small trinkets that her mom kept in a box at the top of her wardrobe. She hadn’t looked into the box any further, she’d felt all too much like she was prying, even though her brother was technically half of her Laura wasn’t sure if she’d felt like something was missing all her life or if had she never known, she wouldn’t have been any the wiser.

 

Laura could only imagine that losing a child would hurt even the most solid of relationships, she often wondered what kept her parents on a steady course through life despite living through such a tragic event, but she needed have wondered for so long when seeing them now holding each other in an even tighter embrace than before, she knew her family unit was a united front. They helped each other through the hard times and joined together in the good; today was one of those good days they’d been waiting for this a while and now that the news was out and spreading across the faces of everyone in her room, Laura couldn’t help but be utterly proud and forever thankful of what her parents had sacrificed to get her to where she was right now. There was only one rather large expanse of water, an ocean away from the Royal Academy of Music in London, standing in the way of her dream.

 

Reaching down to retrieve her letter; she frowned as her hand didn’t find the smooth edges of the paper at all, instead her fingers sank into freezing cold water. Taking her eyes off her parents for only a second, she glanced down a gasp frozen on her lips as fear instantly flooded into her chest, a groaning sound reached her ears, the lamp to her right surged in brilliant bright yellow light, flickered and hummed, straining to keep the illumination alive before it exploded plunging her into darkness; the only sound was the whooshing rush of water pooling at her feet completely surrounding her.

 

.x.

 

_ If I could have done it differently would I have? I can’t really understand why this is such a burning question at the forefront of my mind right in this instance, right now, because there’s water at my feet and it’s so dark I cannot see a damn thing, I’m not even sure if I’m still alive because the water’s so cold my feet have numbed out and my pants are soaking wet dragging me down wanting me to fall into the abyss, the water wanting me to a part of it. Desperately wanting.  _

 

_ But I can hear my breathing and I feel the way the oxygen is forced in my lungs by the rise and fall of my chest and I am acutely aware that I am panicking but I can’t stop. I’m trying to remember that solid advice that my gym instructor gave us in grade six when she’d highlighted drowning and how to get out of a ‘sticky situation’ my heart is hammering in my chest I’m sure I’m breathing hard but I can only hear the water, my sticky situation is far stickier than I originally thought, because try as I may, I cannot recall the advice and I’m floundering in the knowledge that I am solely, utterly alone; there is no one else here and the water has reached my thighs. _

 

_ I’m remembering watching the shoreline of Canada disappear as the waves take me and my parents to our new live in England, I’m holding my acceptance letter in my hand tight as if it might float away and all of this turns out for nothing. I’m scared of what my future may hold when we reach England and though I won’t show it, I'm terrified of disappointing the two people who helped me to get to the woman I am today. I’m scared they’ll realise they’ve made a terrible mistake selling our house and moving with me halfway across the world. They haven’t, they know it, I know it. But fear is enticing. _

 

_ The fear I have now is squeezing out every inch of music I have ever played and it’s symphony is comforting, the way it surrounds me, strings louder than the rushing water, warming me in the freezing cold, creating pin pricks of light in the dead darkness. I can see the outline of my hands vaguely through the shaking, my eyes adjust to the room and it’s pale eggshell coloured walls; my suitcase is floating and my violin is in two pieces, the neck taps against my leg, which I barely feel before there is a hand wrapping around my wrist and I am pulled stumbling towards an ever growing piercing whine. The door is shoved roughly and aching bright light floods into the darkness blinding me, it burns my retina as I try in vain to cover my eyes.  _

 

_ The whine doesn’t let up, it fills everything till I’m hearing only that and my heartbeats are lost in the groaning creak which I realise now is water pressing into all the crevasses of our sinking vessel. It’s my dad’s hand around my wrist and you’d think that with a grip so tight there’d be no way I could lose him. You’d think that the moment I saw the worried look on my mom’s face that quickly turned to relief that there wasn’t any well in hell that I’d lose her. You’d think that through all the comotion and the batting of hands, and the pushing and screaming, the whine and the groan, the rush, the cold, the darkness then light, then darkness and my heart beating out of my chest, a lump in my throat and the taste of salt on my lips that could be salt water but could quite easily be my tears. You’d think that through all of that, there’d be no way that I’d have consciously pried his fingers away from my wrist because in the small gap in fierce unrelenting sound, I heard a child crying. You’d think that I’d have been imagining things because my ears as bleeding, I’ve burst my eardrum but still the child cries. I must be dreaming because I’ve let them go and they’re no longer there with me and people are shoving so hard I’m bruising every inch of my body trying to push against the current. Out of the corner of my eye I see him, a terrified boy clutching onto the only thing that wasn’t sinking with the rest of the ship, the only thing that was floating, my mangled violin, and you’d think that I’d have gone insane, I thought I had in those seconds before my hand reached for him, the rushing rage of water growing by the second. His fingers curled around my arm, you’d think that in that moment the actions I was making were thought out, that I had a plan.  _

 

_ A plan was what I had when we sold the house, when we stepped onboard this barge and when we sailed away all on the hope of a letter that, I snorted, an involuntary smirk; who even knew where my letter was now. My plan had sailed away as soon as we left the dock, unconsciously I was wrapping the strings of my beyond repairable violin around my wrist, knotting it before tying it around the boy’s wrist till it felt secure, his whimpering was lost in the rushing burn and build of water, a plan was for those whose life hadn’t already flashed before their eyes, a plan was unconsciously realising that this was it and it would probably be the end but I’d planned for bigger things knowing with hesitation that despite what was about to happen, I- we, had to survive. Ask me now why I did it and I’ll tell you some weird and wonderful story that roughly translates to me being selfless, ensuring that the boy lived over my life, because in reality I cannot explain why or even how I came to the conclusion of my plan without sounding like I’d best be locked up complete with straight-jacket. _

 

_ I’d reached the corner of the hall, turning slowly into a swimming pool at our feet, the boy was still sobbing, his clammy hands wound tightly into the fabric of my pyjama sleeves just like my mom on the morning I recieved my acceptance letter, his little fists turning white from the strength with which he clung to me. You’d think I were insane when I say I felt his hand on my wrist, his fingers gripped me tighter than before joined swiftly by a hand on my cheek, soft but rough along the fingertips, leaning into the contact I found myself smiling in spite of what was happening all around us, positioning the boy behind me I turned to greet my parents. _

 

_ You’ll call me mad because when I turned there wasn’t anything there, no hands holding me, no fingers stroking the tears away from my cheeks, just the ever growing tide of water as it rushed towards us, I had no plan, not really, but nothing I could have stopped me from turning my body into that swell and taking the brunt force of the water. Curling my body around the boy was pointless, within seconds the water had hit me with the force of a thousand bricks, forcing all the air from my lungs, dragging me under, pulling me down and dragging him with me, my earlier plan to keep him safe may now just kill him along with me. _

 

_ I cannot tell up from down or right from left, I’m being lifted and thrown with the swell into every solid object the water hits. I haven’t breathed in air in over a minute and the burning is becoming an odd sort of comfort, but it burns like a thousand knives jabbing into my back at a million miles an hour. And I’m sorry that I let go, for a millisecond I wish I’d held on, really held on, for dear life. Darkness licks at the edge of my vision till I’m sure I’m only imagining that hand around my wrist lifting me higher and higher to the surface of the water, till I’m sure that I’m actually being welcomed into heaven because the light won’t stop, it’s so bright it hurts but music is glorious. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to a number of musical pieces for this, none of which were actually straight classical! Moreover composed instrumental scores for movies, if you want to know the names of the composers, let me know in the comments and I'll post them at the end of each chapter hereafter.


End file.
